


Ō no oboreta kokoro wa Makoto no te de sukuwa reta

by ThetenthtenbeingofTen



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Nanase Haruka, Don’t copy to another site, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, First chapter is SFW, Friends to Lovers, King Nanase Haruka, M/M, Mature rating applies to Second Chapter only!, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Prince Nanase Haruka, Prince Tachibana Makoto, Romantic Fluff, Slow Burn, Top Tachibana Makoto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 04:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21452278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetenthtenbeingofTen/pseuds/ThetenthtenbeingofTen
Summary: Hakushima was an island with sprawling, white beaches and equally white cliffs, atop which sat the kingdom of King Nanase.Kaiho-Castle was King Nanase’s residence. There he lived with his wife, the Queen and his son, Prince Haruka, who would one day be his successor.One night the island is attacked, and to keep their heir safe, King and Queen Nanase send their son off to their friends' Kingdom of Tatsuyama, hoping for a union between their Kingdoms...A marriage born out of necessity, love grown from friendship...
Relationships: Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto
Comments: 16
Kudos: 60
Collections: Tachibana Makoto Birthday Exchange 2019





	1. The king's drowned heart was saved by the hands of...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PetiteNiku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetiteNiku/gifts).

> First of all, big thanks to ExquisiteWallflower and Maz for organizing this exchange! Even bigger thanks to Maz, for helping me out when I was doubting myself, lol.  
Super big thanks to my dear Onii-sama, for helping me figure out what I wanted to do with my prompt in the first place. And of course, thanks to Birbcake <- still, best name ever - for helping me with the Japanese title of this work.  
And infinite thanks - and I do mean _infinite_ \- to Bideroo, without whom this whole project might as well have turned out somewhat garbage, especially the second chapter. Seriously, I maybe wouldn't give her my firstborn child, but my secondborn for sure.  
Jk, I would give her the firstborn too if she asked for it.
> 
> * * *
> 
> With that out of the way, a few things to say before you start reading!  
I contemplated using the well-known locations and names for the Kingdoms, but decided against that, because I wanted to give a more distant, almost fantasy-inspired setting!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy reading it!

  
  


The first attack had come swiftly in the dead of night.  
It’d been a moonless night when the blackened ships of the enemy approached the white pier of Kaiho-Castle.

Hakushima was an island with sprawling, white beaches and equally white cliffs, atop which sat the kingdom of King Nanase.  
Kaiho-Castle was King Nanase’s residence. There he lived with his wife, the Queen and his son, Prince Haruka, who would one day be his successor.

On the night of the attack the Queen had brought her son into the shelter with her, rather than letting him take part in the defense of the Castle, entrusting their safety to her husband and his naval army.

To tell the truth, this hadn’t been the first time that Hakushima was under attack during the Nanase’s reign.  
Hakushima was a worthy prize to win of course, with a pleasant climate and natural resources anyone who claimed it would surely have a perfect life ahead of themselves.  
When the Nanase’s family had taken the throne many generations ago, a rather modest noble family had become a formidable actor on the political stage.

It really was no surprise that trouble would find the kingdom sooner or later, but even so, the attack had come seemingly out of nowhere.

The enemy retreated by sunrise.

Kaiho-Castle had withstood the attack with only minor damage, but at the cost of many lives of many brave soldiers.

The following night, the enemy attacked once more.

With the island in dire straits, the King and Queen had no choice but to ask for help from their allies. The closest being the kingdom of Tatsuyama. Its regents, the King and Queen Tachibana have supported the kingdom of Hakushima for many generations, so when a messenger from Hakushima arrived, asking for help they agreed immediately.

And thus, to keep Prince Haruka, the Nanase’s only heir safe from harm while the kingdom was at war, he was sent to the kingdom of Tatsuyama.

King Nanase and King Tachibana have contemplated uniting their kingdoms for a long time, and as their children came of age, a marriage had been suggested… but both their heirs were male.

King Tachibana was reluctant to allow his daughter to marry at the tender age of twelve. Even if the marriage wouldn’t be consummated until she came of age, it was a fate he wouldn’t wish upon her. Especially considering her husband would be seven years older than her.  
Of course, such a thing wasn’t unheard of in political marriages, but King and Queen Tachibana weren’t swayed by political gain when their children’s happiness was on the line.

Still, with Hakushima in serious danger it would only benefit both kingdoms to be united. Hakushima would gain more power, while Tatsuyama would profit from Hakushima’s riches.

When Prince Haruka arrived at Ungan-Castle he was welcomed with a grand celebration.

Everyone was out on the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young prince who would possibly marry Tatsuyama’s princess.

Of course many rumors were passed around among the simple folk, and even the lords and ladies of the court weren’t certain what to expect of the prince.

The crowd cheered as the door of the chariot opened and a maid stepped out, ready to steady her prince’s hand as he emerged after her.

He gave his maid a nod, then strode towards the open gates of Ungan-Castle, the place where he would be living for the foreseeable future.

It was unlike Kaiho-Castle where he had grown up of course. The architecture was entirely different.  
Still, in a strange way Prince Haruka found it comforting. Maybe Ungan’s sturdy walls seemed appealing to him now, after seeing the beautiful ornamental walls of Kaiho destroyed.

That was the first time that Prince Makoto, King and Queen Tachibana’s eldest son, saw Prince Haruka.

A creature of elegance with eyes, the color of the deep sea itself. A part of him wondered if the legends were true, and Nanase’s ancestors had been born from seafolk when he watched the Prince approach, his gait smooth and sure like the lapping of the waves on the beach.

He wore a suit, the color of seafoam, with an ocean blue cape flowing from his broad and steady shoulders.

Upon his head he bore a crystal diadem in the shape of an ocean wave.

Likewise, Prince Haruka laid eyes on Prince Makoto for the first time as he stepped up to King Tachibana’s throne and knelt.

He was meant to marry Princess Ran, the girl who sat by the Queen’s side atop a delicate throne, but as he saw her, he couldn’t help but feel wrong about it all.

She was a child.

But such was the nature of politics. Marriage was not a bond between partners in life, but merely the exchange of valuable hostages for the sake of political gain.

Tension laid over the throne hall, dampening the celebration of Prince Haruka’s arrival.

Nevertheless, after the official welcome had been spoken, King Tachibana bade his guests to join him and his family for a feast.

Prince Haruka didn’t feel like eating but regardless sat at the table next to the young Princess who glanced up at him with a bright smile.

His heart gave an anxious stutter and he forced a smile before averting his eyes from her. He met Prince Makoto’s eyes by chance. He sat opposite him and gave a friendly nod before turning away with a sigh.

He is Ran’s fiancé, Prince Makoto thought bitterly. A complicated mix of emotions swirled inside his chest. There was something akin to disgust at the thought of this man laying his hands upon his little sister, but there also was something akin to jealousy.

When their eyes had met, Prince Makoto had felt like he was staring into the depths of the ocean, like he would be sucked in to disappear within the darkness forever.  
Was this Prince truly not a siren?

On the second day of Prince Haruka’s stay in Ungan-Castle an audience was held in the throne hall to discuss his and Princess Ran’s betrothal.  
All members of the Tachibana family were present, awaiting Prince Haruka’s official proposal.  
Of course King and Queen Nanase had proposed in his name before he came, but for the sake of protocol, he had to do it himself.

Prince Haruka however, no matter how hard he tried, couldn’t calm down. It was wrong. He didn’t want to marry this girl, this child, who probably didn’t even understand the implications of their marriage.

The way she had smiled at him had haunted him all night somehow. It felt so wrong, he couldn’t stand it.

“It is our pleasure to entrust our precious Ran to you, Prince Haruka,” King Tachibana spoke, nodding to himself as he did so.  
He is trying to convince himself, because he doesn’t believe his own words, Prince Makoto could tell.  
He clenched his teeth and remained quiet.

He had no right to interfere, even though he was the prince.

Prince Haruka bowed his head, before glancing at Princess Ran. She sat upon her throne as she did yesterday, smiling happily.  
She had no idea.

At last Prince Haruka found his courage and spoke:

“I am honored to be entrusted with your daughter’s hand in marriage, but I cannot accept this.”

He lowered his head in apology, but from the corners of his eyes he glanced at Prince Makoto. The Tachibanas’ eldest son was tall, his shoulders broader than Haruka’s own, his skin tan and his eyes the warmest, richest green that Haruka had ever seen.

Maybe it was the appeal of a grown man – no mere child – that drew Haruka in, but no matter what it was, he knew he couldn’t voice his thoughts.

King Tachibana breathed a sigh of relief and nodded, his expression grave nonetheless.  
“I see, Prince Haruka,” he said and folded his hands in is lap, “I am as much relieved as I am regretful that our kingdoms’ union is not to be after all.”

Prince Haruka nodded his head.  
“It pains me as well, to have to return to my people empty handed,” he admitted, “but your dear daughter’s virtue is worth more than my shame.”

Prince Makoto listened to Prince Haruka’s words with wide eyes, disbelieving at first but understanding with time.

Of course he knew that Prince Haruka had come to marry Princess Ran for the sake of their kingdoms’ union, rather than desire for her, but his respect for her virtue surprised him.

He met his eyes and just like the first time, he felt drawn in by their seeming depth. Prince Haruka’s eyes were expressive in a way he could not read, and it unsettled him as much as it intrigued him.

When he found himself rising from his seat, he was almost as bewildered by his decision as all the others.  
“I would like to propose another option,” he said and walked up to the foreign Prince. He knelt and held out his hand.

“Take me in my sister’s stead, for your people’s sake.”

* * *

A mere month later both princes sat upon their marriage bed. The festivities were still going on beyond their private quarters but they had elected to retreat for tonight.

Awkwardly they now sat side by side, neither daring to move.

Of course nobody expected their marriage to be consummated like a normal marriage would be. Neither of them is a maiden whose blood could stain the sheets, neither of them could conceive a child from this union, so it was not necessary.

Prince Makoto tried to clear his throat before speaking.

“Well,” his voice still came out a bit broken, “there is no need… for us to share the bed,” he said and glanced at Prince Haruka from the corner of his eye.

“There is not,” Prince Haruka said softly, his deep voice calm as ever, “but I do not mind.”

Prince Makoto now turned all the way towards his _husband_. “You do not?” he asked, raising his eyebrows inquisitively.

“I do not,” Prince Haruka assured. He met Prince Makoto’s eyes with a calm but resolved expression.

For a moment Prince Makoto held his gaze as though he was waiting for Prince Haruka’s resolve to break after all and for him to withdraw his reassurance, but he never did.  
He instead rose to his feet and started undoing the buttons on his jacket.

Prince Makoto stared for a moment before remembering himself and averting his eyes.  
“Ah… I take it you are tired and would prefer to sleep soon?” he said uncertainly, hesitantly glancing in Prince Haruka’s direction.

The man in question turned towards his husband, who promptly blushed and averted his eyes again.

Prince Haruka raised an eyebrow.  
“What’s wrong?” he asked as he shrugged off his richly embroidered jacket, sighing with relief once the weight was off his shoulders.

Prince Makoto swallowed dryly and kept his eyes on the floor. “Nothing,” he said, but even he didn’t believe his own words.

Prince Haruka watched him for a moment before shrugging and continuing as before.

Prince Makoto meanwhile tried very hard not to think about Prince Haruka’s bare chest. Obviously he had seen more than one man’s bare chest before, he had spent plenty of time with the male staff of Ungan-Castle, helping out during the rice harvest and the like, and the simple folk cared little about the propriety that all the noblemen and women were so adamant about.

Still, something about Prince Haruka’s pale ivory skin made the brunette prince think about things he really _shouldn’t._

In the mean time Prince Haruka had stripped off all his clothes except his breeches and his jewelry. He approached the vanity and sat on the stool. For a moment he gazed into the mirror, secretly glancing behind himself at Prince Makoto, before taking off his adornments.

First the fin-shaped ear cuff he wore on his left ear wherever he went. It was the symbol of his lineage, representing the merfolk’s blood he supposedly inherited from his ancestors.  
It was made of silver and rested against the back of the ear, with a pearl securing it to the earlobe.

A similar earring dangled from his right ear, minus the ear cuff. He removed it too and placed it next to his ear cuff.

Lastly he removed his crown, reverently placing it on the vanity besides his earrings.

He looked into the mirror again. There he was. His true self. Haru. Just Haru.

He sighed softly and rose from the stool and walked back to the bed upon which Prince Makoto was still sitting.

Haru stood before him and waited for the other to acknowledge his presence.

Prince Makoto slowly lifted his gaze, almost involuntarily tracing the contours of Prince Haruka’s body as it was illuminated by the moon outside the window and the candles on the candelabra. His skin almost looked pearlescent in this light…

Well damn, Prince Makoto thought to himself, his sister kinda missed out on a good man. But then… Prince Makoto did feel better with the foreign prince by his side, rather than his sister’s.

Not that he thought ill of his husband – it still didn’t sound quite right in his mind – but somehow, he still felt better this way.  
He probably was too tired to ponder the depths of his emotions tonight anyways.

“Go ahead,” he said as he rose, gesturing the now empty bed.

He watched Prince Haruka climb onto the mattress before finally turning away and undressing himself.

He took off his crown and placed it on the vanity next to Prince Haruka’s.

He too glanced into the mirror, hoping to catch the other prince’s gaze in the reflection, but Haru had hidden his eyes in the shadow of his hair.

He watched Prince Makoto as he stripped out of his jacket, tunic, boots and pants until he too stood besides the bed wearing only his breeches.

Unlike his own skin, Prince Makoto’s skin had a warm sheen, like the sun had crept into him and refused to go even when night descended upon them.  
Unlike his own body, Prince Makoto’s body was broad and strong. He had an air of effortless might about him, but he seemed almost entirely unaware of it in the way he moved.

He didn’t move like a grown predator, there was no force behind his movements; instead there was something akin to clumsiness, almost bordering on anxiety.

What a strange observation.

* * *

They had slept surprisingly well that first night, and every night since. Was it because neither expected anything the other wasn’t ready to give? Was it a sense of companionship between them?  
Whatever it was, it didn’t matter, did it?

So when morning came again, and Haru rose silently, Prince Makoto wished him a good morning and stayed put for a bit longer.  
He knew by now that Prince Haruka liked to wash himself first thing in the morning, and that usually took a little while.

Prince Makoto had realized that Prince Haruka didn’t like to speak much. He spoke when he had to, but rarely remarked on anything of personal interest.

Actually, there were few things that Haruka seemed to actually show interest in.

Prince Makoto wasn’t sure what to do about it though. It wasn’t surprising, was it? Prince Haruka was away from his home, the place he had grown up in, and he had no way of knowing for sure, that his home would still even be there when he returned.

Just yesterday another messenger had come to Ungan-Castle with news of another attack.

King Tachibana had ordered more troops to be sent to Hakushima, but was that really enough?

Prince Makoto couldn’t stay in bed any longer. He rose with a sigh and stepped up to the window, watching as the sun crept up the mountain.  
He could see the workers on the rice fields from here. Fond memories came to his mind, of himself as a youth, coming to watch and help out at times.

Old man Tamura and his wife had a sweet cat and after long days of work they let him play with her.  
Maybe he could visit them again? Maybe little Shiro-chan had kittens by now?

Maybe it would make Prince Haruka’s sullen face light up with a smile?

Ah, well. That would be nice, but of course… he didn’t _have_ to do this. Prince Makoto chewed the nail of his thumb before remembering himself.  
But…

Hasn’t Prince Haruka taken longer than usual today?

Should he check on him?

No, right? He shouldn’t try to impose on a man’s morning bath. What gave him the right anyways… 

But… what if he wasn’t alright?

Prince Makoto bit his lip and gathered his courage. He knocked.

“Prince Haruka?” he asked when he got no answer.

“Just Haru,” came a reply.

It caught Prince Makoto by surprise and for a few seconds he stood dumbstruck with his knuckles still leaning on the wooden door.

Just Haru.

Prince Makoto blinked a few times, then withdrew his hand at last.  
He was fine, he should give him his privacy, he told himself but… for some reason he didn’t feel right yet. He didn’t feel like he could leave him alone just yet.

“May I come in?” he asked without really meaning to.

“Sure,” came Prince Haruka’s… no, Haru’s reply.

And so, Prince Makoto stepped into the bathroom that was meant to be his and his husband’s. It felt like a foreign room to him sometimes. Like it bore witness to things that didn’t relate to him at all, like he didn’t actually have the right to be here… that he was intruding somehow.

But there sat Haru, just Haru, in the bathtub, like it was his home.  
That couldn’t be right, could it? He couldn’t look so open and free here of all places, right?

Prince Makoto realized belatedly that he hadn’t said a thing ever since he came in and had only stared at the other.  
He sputtered.

“Ah… A… I… I mean… I was just…” he stammered and backed towards the door again, not sure what he should do otherwise.

“I took too long, didn’t I…” Haru murmured, so completely unbothered by whatever Prince Makoto was doing there.  
He cupped some water in his hands and let it pour down his arms.

In the silence of the room the water splashing sounded way too loud.

Prince Makoto blinked once, then approached the bathtub and felt the water’s temperature.

It is cold.

“Prince Haru… Haru, you should get out already! The water has cooled down way too much already!” he said and without thinking grabbed the other man’s arm to pull him out of the water.

“No…” Haru sighed and squirmed out of Prince Makoto’s hands like a slippery fish from the hands of a fisherman.

Prince Makoto withdrew.  
“But aren’t you cold?” he asked helplessly.

“... Better this way…” Haru sighed.

“What is better this way?”

He got no reply that day.

More time went by and it somehow became a ritual. Prince Makoto told himself that it was just to ensure Prince Haruka’s health, but deep down he treasured their mornings together.

He would brush his teeth, wash his face, comb his hair and then pull Haru from the tub to make sure he doesn’t stay in the cold water too long.  
It’s like clockwork, using his own morning routine to measure the acceptable time for Haru to spend in cold water.  
It’s fine that way, he told himself.

Prince Haruka didn’t seem to mind it either, quietly taking the hand that Prince Makoto held out to him in offering.

Prince Makoto took Prince Haruka along when he went to visit his people.  
Wherever they went they were greeted with reverence and joy. People bowed to them and called their children to let them see their rulers.

He took him to meet old man Tamura and his wife too. As expected, little Shiro-chan gave birth to a litter of tiny kittens and Prince Makoto almost cried at the sight.

Prince Haruka actually knelt down and picked up a kitten. Shiro-chan only meowed at him, before nuzzling the back of his hand, as if to say that she trusted him with her baby.

The kitten was the size of Haruka’s hand.

As they went back to the castle, Prince Makoto smiled happily.  
“I remember petting Shiro-chan when she was just a tiny kitten herself, and now look at her…” he said and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

He peered over at Prince Haruka, wondering what kind of expression he was making, but when he saw him… as expected he looked calm as always.

But… the ocean in his eyes seemed restless.

“Your hands are big,” he said out of nowhere.

* * *

“King Nanase is dead”

Prince Haruka’s maid Aki trembled as she held out the note that had just been brought in by a panicked messenger.

Prince Makoto gasped and pressed a hand over his mouth before looking at Prince Haruka who… 

… shed a single tear.

Prince Makoto felt a chill running down his spine when he met Haruka’s eyes then.

It was as though a part of him had died with his father.

A part of Haru.

* * *

Within a fortnight Prince Haruka was going to return to Hakushima to be crowned as the new king.

The fragile harmony between him and Prince Makoto lay in shambles between them.

Prince Haruka didn’t spend his mornings in the bathtub anymore, rising with the sun before going to spend the first half of his day with King Tachibana, discussing the future.

In the afternoon he would sit in his and Prince Makoto’s room, staring out into the distance, as though he was looking for his father’s soul.

In the evenings he sat with everyone else to eat dinner but he wasn’t there. 

Gone were his faint smiles and soft voice when he spoke to the twins. Princess Ran may have been disappointed at first but it was obvious that she wanted her brother to be happy too, and it seemed that he was.  
He got along well with his husband, didn’t he?  
Prince Haruka was kind and gentle, much like Prince Makoto himself.  
Prince Makoto would often smile to him and talk to him with the same softness in his voice as when he spoke to her. That was a good thing, was it not?

But lately he had changed. He tried to act like nothing was wrong for the sake of his siblings, but even so, they realized that he was tense. He kept watching Prince Haruka from the corner of his eye, and every time he averted his eyes with a sigh.

King and Queen Tachibana noticed it too.

Nobody could ignore the way Prince Haruka sat still like a statue, lifeless and joyless.

The night before his departure he sat on the edge of the bed with his crown in his hands. He spoke even less ever since he learned of his father’s death.

Prince Makoto didn’t blame him of course.

He wasn’t sure what to do.

Leave him alone? Keep him company? Speak? Shut up?

He truly didn’t know his husband, did he… 

“Prince Haruka,” he started but the wounded look in those deep blue eyes made him shut up.

Haru lowered his head and brought the crown up to touch his forehead. He was bidding his freedom farewell.

Once he was back home he would no longer wear this crown.

He would wear his father’s crown.

Prince Makoto didn’t dare to try and speak again. He turned away and undressed in silence before slipping under the covers of his and Prince Haruka’s bed.

“You will be glad, will you not?” Prince Haruka whispered, not expecting an answer or even a reaction.

“What?” Prince Makoto whispered on the verge of sleep and turned around, eyes hazily focusing on Prince Haruka’s slender back.

“You won’t have to put up with me,” Prince Haruka said with a bitter, joyless smile.

Prince Makoto’s eyes widened.

“Is… is that how you think of me? Of our marriage?”

“Don’t take me for a fool,” Prince Haruka hissed and rose from the edge of the mattress. He walked over to the vanity and set down his crown, glowering at Prince Makoto through the mirror.

“I… I don’t,” Prince Makoto stammered, sitting up fully. “Of course our marriage isn’t motivated by love or even… partnership,” he said heavily.

“Then what are you talking about?” Prince Haruka wondered, turning back around, facing Prince Makoto.  
“You married me so I wouldn’t go home with empty hands, so your people could profit from Hakushima’s riches, so your sister wouldn’t… have to be married to a man she doesn’t love…” there was disgust in Prince Haruka’s voice.

“That is true,” Prince Makoto admitted with a sigh, “but it is not the whole truth.”

Prince Haruka stared at him now.

“Of course I know better than to hope for… anything in a marriage like ours, but I couldn’t help it,” Prince Makoto murmured, running a hand through his shaggy hair, “I hoped we could grow to be closer one day. Rule together, as equals, maybe friends…” _maybe more,_ he didn’t dare to add.

Prince Haruka said nothing.

He stood between bed and vanity for a while without saying a word.

“Come to bed, Haru,” Prince Makoto said eventually. “We will travel far tomorrow.”

Haru approached the bed almost on instinct, when he stopped dead in his tracks. “We?” he echoed.

Prince Makoto shrugged.

“I didn’t plan to follow you that soon, because I wanted to plan my move more carefully, but I guess I can’t let you go alone like this,” he said and laid down on his side, still waiting for Haruka to join him.

Finally the other prince moved again and climbed into the bed, curling up on his side, facing his husband.

“But what about your family?”

Prince Makoto gave him a sheepish smile.

“I was hoping… that one day you would be part of it,” he said with a shrug, then turned onto his back and folded his hands over his stomach, looking up at the canopy above them.

“They will be fine,” he whispered, before glancing back ever so shyly in Haru’s direction. _But you might not be, if I leave you alone._

He averted his eyes again and sighed. Prince Haruka may not have replied with words, but he could tell from the quiver in his lips and the spark in his eyes that he had understood what he meant, even when he didn’t say it.

Curious, was it not?

He felt that he learned more about his husband in this single evening than the months that he spent with him now.  
“Good night, Haru,” he whispered.

Prince Haruka closed his eyes and hid his face against his pillow.

“Good night, Makoto,” he whispered back.

* * *

King Haruka wore black when he was crowned. 

He crowned Prince Makoto once he was given his title, naming him Prince Consort Makoto.

They stood side by side and a hall of black bowed before them.

Kaiho’s delicate beauty was veiled by heavy, black drapes, where usually pale blue ones would sway gently, embroidered with the Nanase’s royal sigil.

But not today, not when Hakushima mourned the king’s death.

Queen Nanase, much like her home, was veiled in black. Even so, Prince Consort Makoto had seen the tears in her eyes when she placed her husband’s crown on King Haruka’s head.

She had caressed her son’s cheek in an unspoken apology before stepping back and allowing a servant to carry the Prince Consort’s crown forward.

Somewhere within him, a quiet voice mourned the loss of beauty in this place. From what Prince Consort Makoto had heard Kaiho-Castle was among the most beautiful places in the known world.

For his first time seeing it to be this tragic occasion was pitiful.

Deep down he had longed to see the place that had shaped his husband’s childhood, hoping to learn more about the person he was.

Once he was crowned King Haruka stepped out onto the balcony, his mother Queen Nanase and his Prince Consort Makoto by his side, behind him the imposing breadth of Kaiho-Castle and the ocean itself and faced his people.

Nearly all of Hakushima’s people had come to the castle to greet their new king, but nobody cheered.

Still, King Haruka bowed to his people.

“My _children,_” he called as once his father had before him, “I stand before you with a heavy heart. Our wounds still bleed, our tears still flow, but let us not bow in defeat!”

He made a gesture encompassing all he could reach, “My father gave his life protecting our beloved Hakushima and I shall fulfill what he hoped for. Hakushima will know peace and safety once more!”

Slowly he turned to face Makoto and held out his hand. Prince Consort Makoto stepped forward, placing his hand in that of his husband, his king.

“Our brothers in Tatsuyama will help us fight, and rebuild what we have lost,” he said before stepping aside, allowing Prince Consort Makoto to address _their_ people.

“My children,” he too called, his voice warm and compassionate, “my heart bleeds as does yours. To see a beloved home in ruins, lives lost and hearts broken I cannot stand idly by without doing a thing,” he said, placing his free hand over his heart.

“As long as my King will have me, I will give whatever I can to bring joy and safety back to our home!”

There was a quiet, restrained cheer in the wake of Prince Consort Makoto’s speech.

* * *

King Haruka spent the following weeks pouring over diagrams and maps of Hakushima, detailing all the damages, the previous attacks and all the information that could be gathered regarding their attackers.

A fleet of pirates, unified by poverty.

Recently another kingdom had changed their laws in regards to piracy, withdrawing privateering rights from almost everyone except for a few fleets who swore fealty to their king and none other.

Many refused and so their fate changed, pushing them into Hakushima’s seas.

Furthermore, many sailors were originally fishermen whose luck turned on them, who saw no other way to feed their families anymore.

Many ships were obviously fishing boats, but desperation had sent many into the arms of powerful pirate captains, who sought to regain their former glory.

King Haruka’s navy dwindled before his eyes as the attacks kept coming in strong every night.

Prince Consort Makoto stood by his side, quietly assuring him with his mere presence.

“They must have a stronghold of some sort. One of the Seikai islands maybe…” King Haruka murmured.

His advisors bowed.  
“We have considered that, but our inquiries were denied every time. There is no stronghold,” one of them said, shrugging in resignation.

“Then another island. Or another ship for all we know. They cannot be drawing ammunition and manpower from thin air!”

Nothing was found, and when night descended upon Hakushima, the attacks came again.

Prince Consort Makoto lay awake in his and King Haruka’s bed.

King Haruka stood by the window, watching his home bleed.

The next day he stood on Kaiho’s white pier and looked at the wounds torn into the white marble.

The castle had been the backdrop for his childhood memories, standing like an ever present deity over him, protecting him from the world.

He used to swim around the pier’s pillars, used to nap on a towel at the white beach, used to explore the caves at the foot of the cliff upon which Kaiho sat like a crown upon Hakushima’s bowed head.

* * *

More and more evenings King Haruka spent in the drawing room, writing urgent inquiries, seeking information, anything that could help save his home.

Prince Consort Makoto stood with him every evening.

“It makes no sense,” King Haruka moaned as he sank back into his armchair. Prince Consort Makoto held out his hand for the latest report on King Haruka’s desk.

“I’ve read it thrice already,” King Haruka murmured but handed it over anyways.

“You said the other day that possibly there is a ship out at sea, serving as a stronghold?” Prince Consort Makoto said as he read the report.  
Indeed there was nothing new, nothing of importance.

“Yes, but even so, it would have long run out of everything. And more than a few ships would draw attention, and the fleet itself is only so strong… I don’t see how there isn’t a stronghold on an island or some-such thing,” King Haruka sighed.

“But every island within a single day’s distance has declined your inquiries,” Prince Consort Makoto said, putting together the dots without needing King Haruka’s confirmation.

“For now, all we can do is hold out and wait for their luck to run out at last,” King Haruka moaned and hid his face in his hand.

“King Tachibana sent reinforcements again,” Prince Consort Makoto pointed out, hoping to ease at least some of his husband’s sorrow.

“Thank him, Makoto,” he said with a heavy sigh, “but he must be taxing his people more than usual… we cannot rely on his support forever, and Hakushima’s people are running out of strength. We won’t hold out for more than another one or two months, I’m afraid.” 

“It is late,” he said after a moment and rose from his seat, swaying for a moment before catching himself.

Prince Consort Makoto’s hand is on his elbow, supporting him immediately.

“Haruka?!” he called in shock, but the young king withdrew from his husband again.

“Nothing,” he assured and started walking to the door.

He ate no dinner that evening.

He ate no dinner the next and the one after either.

Prince Consort Makoto tried his best to maintain a semblance of hope and confidence, even as his husband withered before his eyes.

At last, one morning it had gone too far and before he even put on his crown the young king sunk to the ground, limp as a puppet.

Prince Consort Makoto caught him, cradling him close to his chest as he laid him on the bed, calling for the servants to fetch the doctor, quickly!

Nervous fever, the doctor had said, caused by lack of rest and calm.

Queen Nanase sat by her son’s side, weeping.

Prince Consort Makoto attended the meetings in his husband’s stead.

Night approached and still the king hadn’t woken from his feverish slumber.

Prince Makoto came to the bedroom anyways, knowing not to hope for much. Queen Nanase welcomed him back in her son’s stead, smiling weakly.

“I hate to see him like this,” she confessed.

“As do I,” Prince Consort Makoto whispered under his breath.

She heard him anyways.

“He wasn’t born a king, he was born to be free… yet here is, a husk of himself, his wings clipped, his soul in chains,” she lamented, caressing Haruka’s pale cheek.

“We were too easy on him, we let him play and explore, we kept him far from the mantle of kingship even though we knew better. We couldn’t bring ourselves to force him to be something he is not…”

Prince Consort Makoto said nothing.

When King Haruka woke at last another night of fighting had gone by and the sun stood high in the sky.

Prince Consort Makoto was by his side.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, laying down the reports he had received earlier that day.

King Haruka blinked a few times then turned to face his husband.

“What happened…?” he asked hoarsely.

Prince Consort Makoto helped him sit up and held a cup of water to his lips, letting him drink before answering his question.  
“You fainted yesterday. You pushed yourself too far.”

King Haruka closed his eyes and laid back against his pillows.

“What else could I do…” he sighed weakly. “Hakushima’s future is in my hands and I… I’m letting them down,” he whimpered.

Makoto leaned in and ran a hand through his husband’s hair.

“You are not. You are doing all you possibly can, what else can they ask for?” he wondered.

Haru grit his teeth, tears welling in his eyes.  
He brushed Makoto’s hand away and sat up.

“A real king. A real leader, not a… a …” he gaped… then crumbled.

“My father’s crown doesn’t make me king… it doesn’t make me Hakushima’s ruler, it doesn’t give me the knowledge and confidence to lead those who look to me for guidance… it is merely proof that I… am my father’s lacking replacement.”

Makoto held his hand.

“I’m expected to lead a people I barely know,” King Haruka whispered tearfully.

Prince Consort Makoto held his hand tighter.

“Don’t doubt yourself so much. You will learn in time,” he assured, “you have the misfortune of being forced into kingship in the midst of a war, but nobody can expect you to simply take the reigns and solve everyone’s problems,” he pointed out.

He gave King Haruka a smile.

“And I am little help, am I?” he tried to hide the pain in his voice behind that smile.

King Haruka shook his head.

“That isn’t true,” he muttered. He shifted their hands, holding Makoto’s hands in his own now.

“Your siblings look to you for guidance, your parents trust you to come to a foreign kingdom at war and even Hakushima’s people love you,” he continued bitterly. 

“You could have held all those kittens in your hands. I could only hold one.”

Makoto’s hands held _him_ that day.

* * *

In the following days King Haruka made a full recovery. Prince Consort Makoto still hovered by his side though, always making sure he was well.  
Having seen his husband push himself so far was a clear sign for him that he needed to be watchful.

He would sometimes offer to take his place in minor meetings, or ask for discussions to be delayed to allow King Haruka to rest a little.

King Haruka seemed to appreciate it greatly.

He would sometimes stop speaking when he felt himself grow tired, trusting his husband to translate his needs.

He did so without fail.

Even so, King Haruka spent most of his time soaking up whatever information he could glean from the latest reports, and discussing possible attempts at a strike back.

“Sir, we cannot rely on presumptions and hunches, we need to know more before we can make a decision,” one of the advisors pointed out. Most others nodded along with him.

“Would you rather sit complacently until the enemy delivers their information to our hands?” Prince Consort Makoto inquired in his husband’s stead.

“We do not have the luxury of simply sending out a ship to some godforsaken island on a whim!” the old advisor argued, looking to the king in hopes of him agreeing.

King Haruka however averted his eyes with a sigh.

“We do not, that is true, but to assume the enemy’s stronghold might be on Haikage island is our best shot at this point. We cannot wait any longer!” Prince Consort Makoto insisted. 

Still the advisors shook their heads in dismay. At last King Haruka himself spoke up.  
“We have only two choices now. Send a ship to Haikage or not. If we don’t, we will be overpowered before long and we lose Hakushima. If we do, and the enemy’s stronghold isn’t on Haikage, we lose as well, but if it _is_ on Haikage, we might win!”

Prince Consort Makoto’s steady hand rested on King Haruka’s shoulder.

“Whatever we do, sending a ship to Haikage is our best bet.”

With King Haruka’s decision settled, preparations were being made. Capable sailors chosen, a ship readied, provisions and weapons set aside.

Still, a few dissenting voices kept arguing about the king’s decision, questioning his character.

“It’s strange, is it not? How his Majesty has grown complacent around this consort of his… I bet there’s something wrong with that!” - “You tell me about it! I’m absolutely positive that his Majesty’s sudden weakness was the consort’s fault!” - “Goodness, you must be right! What could Tatsuyama’s intention be?”

“In the end… wasn’t the union between Hakushima and Tatsuyama not merely the lesser of two evils?”

Prince Consort Makoto heard the whispers behind his back.

Prince Consort Makoto chose not to react to them. After all, he knew why he did what he did, and he would sooner endure the slander of Hakushima’s nobility, than fail his husband once more.

His sense of duty had little to do with love, he told himself. He merely saw a man in need and couldn’t bring himself to avert his eyes.

That he is married to said man, that he spends almost all of his days by that man’s side, that he has seen him for who he is, that he has seen him cry… has nothing to do with it.  
Why would it after all.

They are both men. Their marriage is purely political.

One day, when the time comes to produce heirs for their kingdoms, they will have mistresses, and that will be that.

So why… does he keep watching Haruka with that feeling in his chest? That need to be near him?

Is it merely the fact that among all these people, Haru is the only one who truly seems to want him near?

What does it matter. He must be confused or tired, or both. Imagine if he actually told King Haruka about these feelings… ridiculous.

“Makoto?” King Haruka’s voice pulled Prince Consort Makoto from his dreary thoughts.

“Excuse me?” he stammered, bowing his head apologetically.

“I asked if you were feeling fine,” King Haruka said evenly.

Prince Consort Makoto raised his head, meeting King Haruka’s eyes for a brief moment before averting his gaze.

“Ah, well. I might just be a bit tired,” he said sheepishly, “it’s not like me to space out like that, is it…” he added, daring to glance back at Haruka.

“You have been focusing on me a lot the past weeks,” the young king murmured. “It must be exhausting for you.”

Their eyes met again.

“Just a little,” Prince Consort Makoto assured a bit too quickly.

“Makoto, I need you,” King Haruka muttered. The pure, unbridled honesty in Haruka’s words took away Makoto’s breath, and he gaped mutely at him.

“I would not have been able to continue as I have without you,” Haru added, his lips curling into the faintest little smile.

* * *

The scale finally tipped when ships were sighted at the horizon.

A few days before the ship that King Haruka had sent out to Haikage island had returned successfully. Indeed there had been a stronghold.

It had been destroyed.

And now, in a last effort to bring Hakushima to its knees, what remains of the enemy’s fleet is on the move.

King Haruka stood upon the pier, Prince Consort Makoto stood sure and strong as ever behind him.

Even before the battle started it was clear that this was more of a clean-up mission, than a true attack.

Whoever had ordered it was trying to lose as many mercenaries as possible so whatever bounty was left wouldn’t have to be split between too many people.

The ships that came in were in no shape to fight, and by now, the once terrifying fleet that had terrorized Hakushima had become almost pitiable.

“Tell them to surrender,” King Haruka ordered. The order was passed on to the flag men, who would use the flag semaphore to transmit the message to the attacking fleet.

The message was not heeded. The only real battle ship among this fleet cut off anyone’s attempts to withdraw from their position, and so King Haruka had no choice but to crush the attack.

Kaiho has bled enough, Hakushima has suffered enough.

But even so, he felt wrong ordering the defeat of these people. After all this time these ships had been the yarn that spun his nightmares… but seeing them now, a bunch of desperate fishermen and sailors, he couldn’t help but pity them.

The battle took less than a few hours.

Only a few ships were still intact, and most captains had surrendered. But a few ships remained, their crews driven to stupidity by their desperation.

Even from his vantage point, about six meters above sea level, Haruka could see them well.

His Admiral gave off a warning shot, before firing a cannon ball straight into the flank of a fisher boat.

The small vessel was torn to shreds by the impact, and King Haruka watched in shock as a girl went overboard.

A girl. What in the world was a girl doing here amidst a battle?!  
Prince Consort Makoto was just as distressed, pressing a hand over his mouth.

Her red hair flowed in the water like blood.

She didn’t come back up.

A young man aboard the boat she had been on struggled as he was held back by two dark haired men, shouting at him.

He wanted to jump in after her… but they couldn’t afford more losses.

Haruka acted on instinct. He pushed his heavy velvet cape and his crown into Makoto’s hands before jumping off the pier.

Makoto screamed his name the entire time it took for him to hit the water.

The prince consort shoved the king’s belongings into the hands of the nearest servant before running back down the pier. He rushed down the flights of stairs that stood between him and the beach, between him and his husband.

He took no notice of the noblemen and women who followed him, frantically shouting at each other.

He took no notice of the water lapping at his boots as he rushed forward, trying to see his husband’s dark head of hair above the waves.

He took no notice when Queen Nanase herself grabbed onto his arm, pulling him back before he could wade too deep into the water.

“Have faith in him!” she shouted at him, but her words fell on deaf ears as the prince consort continued to call his husband’s name.

Finally King Haruka rose from the sea, carrying a fisherman’s daughter in his arms.

Prince Consort Makoto finally shook off the hands that held him back and embraced King Haruka, ignoring the girl in his arms.  
“How could you?! How could you, Haru?!” he gasped and sobbed, relief rushing through him like blood from a wounded heart.

“She reminded me of Princess Ran,” was all Haruka said in response.

Prince Consort Makoto took a step back.

“Oh…” 

“Help me lay her down, we need to get the water out of her lungs,” King Haruka said calmly as a swarm of servants surrounded him.

Prince Consort Makoto watched with a heavy heart as everyone worried about that girl until she finally spat up the water she had inhaled.

King Haruka stood by his side.  
“She will be fine,” he said, gazing out into the distance, where the last aftershocks of battle slowly found their end.

“You could have died, Haruka…” Makoto choked and grasped Haru’s wrist.

The king only smiled mildly.

“This sea is my home. It wouldn’t hurt me,” he promised.

The fisherboat barely made it to shore, and immediately the young man who had struggled to join the girl rushed forward to where she sat, wrapped in a blanket.  
“Gou! Gou, oh god… oh Gou…” he cried as he knelt before her, pulling her into his arms.

She melted into his arms, weeping.

King Haruka smiled at the scene.

One of the two dark haired men stepped up to him. He kowtowed at his feet.  
“Your Majesty. You saved my daughter’s life!” he gasped, his voice thick with emotion. “What in the world can I do to repay this debt?” the girl’s father wondered, grasped at the king’s wet boots in desperation.

“Do you surrender?” King Haruka asked calmly.

“I do. I do, my crew, my ship, everything!” the man swore immediately.  
“Toraichi…!” a crewman gasped, but didn’t argue any further. He mutely went over to the girl and her brother.

“Then you and the others who did so will be heard in court, and depending on your transgressions, you will help repair the damage that was inflicted upon my home,” King Haruka decided.

Guards came forth already to take the fisherman and his crew into custody.

“Do not harm them!” the king insisted before letting them be taken away.

* * *

King Haruka, Queen Nanase and Prince Consort Makoto presided over the court trials, and even though there was some bitterness to the king and queen, it was a fair process overall.

The former privateers were handed over to the kingdoms of their origin, to be handled by them.

Mercenaries and sailors who followed them under duress were given the choice to stay with their contractors or to stay on Hakushima and be punished under its law.

Most sailors and fishermen, who had joined the pirates out of despair were allowed to stay on Hakushima as free men, under the condition that they help repair the damages to Kaiho-Castle.

All in all it was a positive outcome for most… but even then, the cost of human life couldn’t be ignored.

Many families lost their men. Mothers lost their sons, sisters their brothers, wives their husbands and children their fathers.

Haruka himself had lost his father to this war.

When he walked along the beach, the tall cliffs of Hakushima behind him and the sea lapping at his feet, he thought about him.

He thought about the times when his father caved to the pleas of his mother, to not shut him in, to not take his freedom, to let him be who he is.  
The stoic yet somehow caring cadence in his voice when he talked about Hakushima and its people, about his duty to protect them.

Haruka had rarely listened to the tales of his father, preferring to seek out the caves and rocks beneath the cliffs, where his feet could sink into the sand and his lungs would be filled with the scent of salt.  
The polished castle floors never felt quite right beneath his feet, the scent of cotton never seemed to soothe him, and the fine feasts couldn’t measure up to the taste of grilled mackerel after a long day of fishing with his bare hands.

Haru liked walking at the beach, because for once he felt that nobody was watching him. Nobody expected him to do anything, or be a certain way. While the sea was softly mumbling at him, he felt like himself.

Just Haru.

But then… there was a boy.

He sat in the sand, with a wooden toy fish in his hands, pretending to make it swim through the air.  
Even as he was playing though, Haru saw the tears shimmering wetly on his cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” King Haruka asked, squatting next to the child.

The boy flinched and hastily tried to dry his tears on his sleeves, only he was covered in sand and ended up getting more sand into his face that way.  
King Haruka stopped him from rubbing more and removed the sand with a silk handkerchief. 

It wasn’t until that moment, that the boy realized who the person next to him actually was and he suddenly stood up, clutching his fish to his chest with a bitter glare in his bloodshot eyes.

“YOU!” he accused.

King Haruka rose to his feet and nodded, as if to confirm that yes, he was indeed who he was.

“You… you are… the king!” the boy stammered, pursing his lips as he held back tears again.

“Yes, I am,” King Haruka said, “and you are…?”

“Misaki Kuramoto! Son of Nariaki Kuramoto!” Misaki cried. He waited another few seconds, before adding bitterly, “he was killed.”

“During the war?” King Haruka asked evenly.

“Yes and _YOU did nothing!_ Uncle Serizawa said you were off somewhere else, getting _married!_”

King Haruka sighed.

“Did my father not fight in the war in that time? Do you know what happened to him?”

Misaki sniffled and hiccupped.  
“What happened to him…” he whimpered, not really wanting to know the answer.

“He was killed.”

* * *

“Your Majesty!” a familiar voice called, “At last I find you!”

King Haruka turned back from the edge of the pier, waiting for Prince Consort Makoto to reach him, so he wouldn’t have to shout.  
“Since when do you call me that?” he asked and turned back towards the ocean.

Instead of giving an answer Prince Consort Makoto glanced at King Haruka and wondered, “You are not going to jump again, are you?”

Haruka gave a wry smile at that.

“Please don’t!” Prince Consort Makoto begged.

“I won’t,” King Haruka finally assured. He sighed and turned over to the stone railing, watching his former enemies help repair his home.  
He could easily pick out the two redheads from the crowd, the fisherman’s son and his sister, whom he had saved that day.

“I heard she’s helping out too,” Prince Consort Makoto mentioned as he peered over King Haruka’s shoulder.

The king nodded.  
“She brings food and drinks. Sister Miho does too,” he murmured.

Prince Consort Makoto sighed.

“I guess… I can see why you felt you had to save her. She’s a good girl who never asked to be part of a war…” he contemplated, turning away from the scene.

Haruka hummed.

“Too bad she’s just a fisherman’s daughter…”

Haruka stopped humming.

“What?”

Prince Consort Makoto sputtered.  
“Ah, I mean… it’s fine. But… I just thought… she’s closer to you in age… if only she were a princess… she’d be a fine match…”

King Haruka gave his husband a flat look.

“What are you talking about?”

Finally Prince Consort Makoto sighed and lowered his head in resignation.

“You said you saved her… because she reminded you of my sister…” he said, avoiding Haruka’s eyes.

“And?” the young king inquired further.

“And… I thought… well… because she’s not a man… and not too young…” Prince Consort Makoto stammered, practically wilting under the king’s inquisitive gaze.

King Haruka finally got what he was trying to say and shook his head.  
“No… you misunderstand,” he said, his voice relaxing. “Well… in truth, her brother reminded me more of you, rather than her reminding me of Princess Ran,” he continued, leaning his hip on the railing and crossing his feet at the ankles.  
“When he looked at her, something in his eyes reminded me of how you looked at me when I first came to Tatsuyama.”

Prince Consort Makoto let out a soft “Oh,” before covering his mouth with one hand.

Haru shook his head and chuckled quietly.

Makoto finally relaxed too, surging forward, pretending to grab Haruka by the shoulders.  
“Don’t laugh!” he whined, smiling regardlessly.

Haru shook his head and rolled his eyes.  
Makoto didn’t mind at all, laughing at himself.

* * *

“Haru,” Prince Consort Makoto called as he entered his husband’s study.

“Hm?” the king hummed, briefly looking up from his documents.

“I just saw that you donated a large sum of money to Nao Serizawa’s orphanage,” Prince Consort Makoto murmured, taking a seat by King Haruka’s side.

“Many children lost their fathers,” Haruka pointed out, “and some have no mothers to raise them either.”

Makoto’s gaze softened and he placed his hand on Haru’s shoulder.

“How about we go there then?” he suggested.

King Haruka raised an eyebrow.

“Not as an official visitation, but just as ourselves?”

They went one day, despite Haru’s doubts about the idea. The memory of that day at the beach, little Misaki’s accusations and bitterness were still present in his mind.  
But when him and Makoto arrived, they were greeted with joy and gratitude.

Nao Serizawa, himself an orphan, was only a few years older than the king and prince consort.

He was quick to apologize for not explaining King Haruka’s situation better and allowing young Misaki to misunderstand their king’s plight like that.

Prince Consort Makoto assured that there’d been no harm done, and that King Haruka didn’t resent the boy at all.  
The children quickly warmed up to the prince consort, swarming him eagerly while King Haruka watched.

As they walked back to Kaiho, Haruka led them along the beach, leaving the clean pavement behind. He took off his boots and waited for Makoto to do the same.

Thus they walked side by side, with the setting sun behind their backs.

“You do get along well with children,” Haru mentioned casually. Makoto huffed a laugh.  
“I had to. Ran and Ren always stuck to me wherever I went,” he sighed fondly.

Haru kicked some sand.

“I bet they miss you,” he said. _I bet you miss them too,_ he didn’t say.

Makoto chuckled.  
“I bet they do,” he agreed. _I know I do,_ he didn’t say.

“I suppose I should return to Tatsuyama soon,” he murmured instead, “now that the war is over and repairs are well underway… I guess you don’t need me anymore.”

Haruka stopped.

Makoto did as well and turned to face his husband. Only the corners of his face were lit by the red sun, his hair a burning halo, while his eyes shimmered like sapphires in the dark.

His heart ached a bit.

“Must I _need_ you to treasure your company?”

Makoto blinked.

Like buds opening in spring, like fireworks lighting up the sky, like water settling in a cup something glittered in his eyes.

“Oh,” he gasped, “Haru…”

Haru smiled calmly.

He closed the gap between them and when he tilted his chin up Makoto leaned down to meet him.

* * *

Nobody ever saw King Haruka and Prince Consort Makoto kiss, but many had their guesses when the announcement was made, that they would adopt a child, rather than try to produce heirs of their own.

Queen Nanase seemed to know what was going on, but if she truly did, she didn’t share her knowledge.

Before long Hakushima and its people simply accepted their monarchs for who and what they were.

The rumors about Prince Consort Makoto’s negative influence on King Haruka faded into oblivion, and wherever he went he was greeted with love.  
King Haruka couldn’t say that he wasn’t immensely pleased by his people’s adoration for his husband.

Only Prince Misaki found the sass to roll his eyes at his adoptive father, who was again swarmed by peasants and unable to tear himself from their midst.

“How are they not tired of this charade yet?” the boy wondered, pouting.

King Haruka chuckled.

“You are only jealous because he’s not letting you ride on his shoulders anymore,” he teased.

Prince Misaki gaped at King Haruka while his cheeks turned red.

Prince Consort Makoto finally tore himself from the crowd, just in time to watch Prince Misaki hitting King Haruka’s chest as he retaliated for his earlier teasing.

Haruka was smiling of course, not at all minding the child’s antics. Even so Makoto stooped to pick up the boy.

“Hey now, what is this I’m seeing? An assault on his Majesty the king?”

Haru played along, “Oh, yes… I am wounded…” he said, not even trying to hide the smile in his voice.  
Prince Consort Makoto met King Haruka’s eyes and gave him a knowing smile.

Prince Misaki groaned. He waited for his adoptive father to set him down, but instead he adjusted his grip on his hip before moving on.  
Flushing red from joy Misaki buried his face in the crook of Makoto’s neck.

Calling themselves a family - much like calling themselves husbands - at first hadn’t felt quite right, but after a year it wasn’t as strange anymore.

On quiet evenings like this one the three of them would return to the beach to watch the sun go down.

_The End_


	2. Tsukiakari yoru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus/Missing Scene

He closed the gap between them and when he tilted his chin up Makoto leaned down to meet him.

Tasting Makoto’s lips for the first time was strange and comforting in a strange way. Like a flood of sensations Haruka could only take it all in, the softness of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the subtle pressure as he leaned in closer combined with the faint hint of sweetness, mingling with the saltiness of the ocean breeze caught between them… 

He tilted his face more, bringing his hands up to grab Makoto’s shoulders, lest he pull away just yet.

The gesture brought a smile to Makoto’s face, and he wrapped his arms around Haru’s waist, pulling him close until their hips touched.

Haruka broke away gasping.

Makoto chuckled softly and stole another kiss from Haru’s lips.

For a few moments neither said a word or moved an inch, caught in the afterglow of their kiss.

What were they to do now? Live on as before? No way, right?  
But they didn’t have the freedom to do as they wished either, did they… being the king meant that Haruka was expected to fulfill a certain role, and Makoto, even as his husband by law, was expected to be something… else.

As the minutes ticked by, the two sobered up, and before long the fond smile had faded from King Haruka’s face.

Prince Consort Makoto frowned.

“Don’t, Haru… please, don’t,” he pleaded, pulling the king in tighter before he could try to extricate himself from his grasp.

Haruka sighed.

“I… don’t want to, but…” he started, cutting himself off though.

“I know,” Makoto whispered. “But after everything… don’t you deserve happiness too?”

Haru met his eyes, their shine barely visible anymore with the night sky settling above them like a thick and heavy blanket.  
Like children hiding in a secret cave…

He smiled weakly.  
How many others would rather accuse Prince Consort Makoto of being selfish for wanting to hold onto him?  
Who wouldn’t want to be tied to a king in every way possible?  
Who wouldn’t claim to merely be doing as their monarch wished, in hopes of gaining something?

Who wouldn’t… except for Makoto?

“Do I?” Haru wondered halfheartedly. Of course he did, right? He was just a human. He himself had lived by this truth for all of his life, refusing to bow under the weight of the crown upon his head… but now… was he really going to act like he wasn’t who he was?

King Haruka Nanase…?

Wouldn’t it be naive and disgustingly presumptuous to claim the same humanity as his people, when he lived in a palace, far from dirt and labor?

Makoto brought a hand up to cradle Haruka’s cheek, feeling his expression rather than seeing it.  
“Of course you do,” he said and brushed his lips once more.

Haru sighed.

“Follow me,” he said and grabbed Makoto’s hand. Makoto yelped but followed on instinct as Haru tugged him along, further into the darkness.

“H-Haru?”

“Trust me.”

“I trust you… but… I just…” Makoto stammered as he stumbled behind Haru. The young king dragged him off somewhere and he only had a vague idea of where they were going.

“You’ll need to climb a bit, but it’ll be okay, I promise,” Haru said after a bit and let go of Makoto’s hand.  
“Climb?!” Makoto squeaked, quickly grabbing onto Haru again.

“I did this as a child, you can do it as an adult,” Haru assured and pulled himself up onto the rock in front of which they stood.

“Start with your left foot, and then just keep climbing after me,” he instructed as he went, stopping briefly to see if Makoto was following him.

Reluctantly Makoto followed, deciding to trust his husband. If a young Haru could do it, so could he, right?  
Right.

It was easier than he’d thought, and before long he and Haru were in a little cave.  
“I found it when I was really young, actually,” Haru said as he leaned on a damp wall, which was surprisingly smooth for a natural cave.  
“You can’t see it from the pier, but it’s actually right next to it. This is a pillar,” he explained and patted the wall he was leaning on.

Makoto blinked in disbelief.

“I never knew,” he said and looked out into the darkness.

“Within the hour there will be moonlight pouring into this cave,” Haru explained. “And within another hour it will have moved on.”

Makoto walked up to Haru and looked him in the eyes.

“So I have an hour to do as I wish?” he asked, more to tease than anything, but when Haru remained silent he felt the mood shift a bit.

“Wait… really?”

* * *

Using their capes and jackets as a makeshift cushion to sit upon, not at all minding the salty dampness that slowly soaked into the fabric, the two of them sat facing each other.  
Haruka straddling Makoto’s lap illuminated by a yet narrow sliver of moonlight.

Neither had been prepared for this, neither really knew what he wanted, neither really wanted anything, really… but somehow neither questioned it either.

Makoto held Haruka’s slender body in his lap, hands following the curvature of his spine, while his lips explored his exposed throat ever so hungrily.  
He tasted like salt, mingled with the ever present scent of cotton that was so typical for Kaiho.  
But it was Haru. It was unmistakably Haru himself. There was a slightly tangy undertone to his scent, an unobtrusive muskiness right behind his ear… 

Makoto was almost surprised at the familiarity he associated with this particular scent, until he remembered that he’d spent the past months sleeping in the same bed as him, living in the same rooms as him, moving along the same paths as him… when had they grown this close?

Hadn’t they always been like this, somehow?

Early on in their tentative friendship they had grown close, united by their duty more than anything, until duty was replaced with trust and eventually… with need and longing.

Haruka ran his fingers through Makoto’s shaggy hair, tugging gently to make him look up and meet his eyes.

He might as well have been carved from the same marble as Kaiho itself, Makoto thought as he looked up at Haruka, smiling when they kissed again.  
Haru parted his lips, a hesitant invitation, and sighed when Makoto followed it eagerly.

His fingers, still caught in Makoto’s hair, curled up a bit tighter, pulling on the strands for a moment, before letting go and sliding down his nape, to his broad shoulders.

Makoto shivered.

He pushed a bit harder, forcing Haruka to arch his back, chest pressing into Makoto’s. He could feel his heart pounding through his chest.

_It’s not just me_, he thought with a smile.

Haru dug his fingers into Makoto’s shoulders, before finally breaking the kiss to catch his breath.  
Makoto let him, peppering kisses from the corners of Haruka’s mouth to his chin, his exposed throat down to his collarbones.

Haruka shuddered, grinding his pelvis down into Makoto’s, while pulling up his shoulders as though he was cold.

Makoto groaned into Haruka’s chest.

“We can’t be doing this,” he panted, but when Haru leaned in and nudged him with the tip of his nose, he caught his lips again.

To hell with the consequences tonight. Who’s going to stop them anyways? Who’s doing to find and judge them here?

Only the moon.

“You said…” Haru breathed against his lips, and Makoto answered with a kiss. Yes he’d said that Haru deserved happiness too, and he’d stand by that, come what may.

The cave was bathed in light when they parted at last.

“I want you,” Haru whispered, and Makoto almost sobbed. He had beaten himself up over his fruitless feelings, his irrational attachment, his silly desires and ever so shameful needs, and here Haru was, spelling it out with such ease.

“I want you too,” Makoto admitted with a rueful smile.

Haru raised his eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?”

Makoto sighed and instead of an answer pulled Haru close, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

Haru allowed him to stay as he was for as long as he needed, even as he watched the silvery moonlight fade away.

At last Makoto let him go, cradling his cheeks in his hands.  
“I want you, but not like this. Not like… we’re doing something wrong, not in secret… not here,” he finally explained.

Haru opened his mouth to argue but Makoto cut him off.

“I know what you want to say,” he assured, “but please trust me now.”

Haru pursed his lips but nodded anyways.

“Take us back, Haru. To our room. We’re married, are we not?”

* * *

Curtains drawn, not even a candle to illuminate their little world, nothing could touch them here except each other.

Nakedness wasn’t strange, it wasn’t humiliating at all. Having spent many mornings together, they knew each other well enough.  
But seeing wasn’t feeling, but with only their hands to guide them, _seeing_ became synonymous with _feeling._

Somehow, all of a sudden their nakedness felt entirely different; vulnerable, fragile, paper-thin.

If it wasn’t for the calm surety of Haruka’s touch, if it wasn’t for the steady rhythm of his heart Makoto probably would have felt anxious, laid out on his back with Haruka straddling his hips.  
But whenever he brushed his fingertips over his chest, allowing his touch to linger just a bit, Makoto could feel Haru’s heart beat.

Ever so faintly he could see the outline of Haru’s smile.

“I’ve never done this,” Makoto whispered suddenly.

“Neither have I”

Despite his words Haruka ground his hips harder into Makoto’s, cutting off whatever response he might have come up with.

Both gasped for air at the sensation.

Only the barest hint of silver grazed the contours of Haruka’s body, but it was enough for Makoto to see how he’d thrown his head back, throat exposed, chest open, both hands supporting his weight on the crest of Makoto’s hips.

“Down, _Haruka,_” Makoto growled.

Haruka gasped, but obediently settled his hands on either side of Makoto’s head, their chests mere centimeters apart.

Makoto pulled him down by his nape, pressing their mouths together as he turned them over, just to feel Haru’s surprised gasp against his lips.  
It sent a little thrill of satisfaction down Makoto’s spine, and he rolled his hips against Haru’s just to feel that same thrill again when Haru moaned into the kiss.

He tangled his fingers in Haru’s hair, tugging softly to make him tilt his head back, giving him easy access to his throat.

Makoto _purred_ in satisfaction, suckling on the tender skin of Haruka’s neck, feeling him shiver and moan in response.

Haruka, king of Hakushima, lay at Prince Consort Makoto’s mercy, and he found that he liked it.

He felt at ease, like the heavy mantle of kingship never came to rest upon his shoulders; like he is that same youth, who laid amidst the waves, caressed by the sun and the ocean.  
Only now, he could reciprocate. He could wrap his legs around Makoto’s waist, he could reach up to tangle his fingers in Makoto’s hair, much like Makoto had done with him.

Makoto pulled back, looking at Haruka, seeing the reddish marks peppered across his neck.

“I… I’m sorry,” he gasped, sitting up - or at least trying to, but failing due to Haruka’s locked ankles behind his back.  
“I’m sorry, Haruka… I don’t know what came over me…” he tried again, squirming.

Haru merely rolled his hips, squeezing Makoto with his legs.  
“What are you apologizing for?” he asked softly, running his fingers through Makoto’s hair, brushing back his bangs from his face.

Makoto’s cheeks felt hot under Haruka’s cool fingers, and he leaned his face into his hand.

As Haru closed his eyes, Makoto felt himself calming down again. He kissed the palm of Haru’s hand.  
He leaned back, slower this time, running his hands along Haru’s body, down his hips, his thighs up to his knees, gently unwrapping his legs from his waist.

Haruka allowed Makoto to do as he wished, laid bare before him.

Makoto sat back on his haunches, reverently running his hands along the insides of Haru’s thighs.  
“Is it… bad that I want to do more?” he asked after a while.

“No,” Haru breathed.

“I… don’t even really know what I want… but…” Makoto started again, then stopped. His fingertips were tantalizingly close to Haru’s crotch now.

“Touch, Makoto,” Haru encouraged, reaching down with one hand to grab Makoto’s hand and nudge it towards his - not disinterested - member.

Makoto’s fingers brushed against it, feeling it somewhat hardened but not yet fully turgid. He hesitated for a moment, swallowing dryly as his eyes stared into the dark shadow between Haru’s and his own body.

Haru’s hand stayed where it was, gently urging Makoto to take ahold and to explore him here, the same way he did the rest of his body.

“Makoto,” he said and with his free hand beckoned Makoto to come closer. Makoto did as Haru bid him, leaning in closer, leaning on one arm, while shyly tracing along the length of Haru’s warm shaft.

Haru, in the meantime, took advantage of Makoto’s closeness, running his hand from Makoto’s parted lips, down along his tense neck, over his shoulders; he tenderly traced the line of Makoto’s clavicle, down along his chest until he playfully dipped his index finger into Makoto's belly button, which earned him a squeak.

“Haru!” Makoto admonished, glad that the darkness at least hid his blush.

Haru chuckled and dug his finger a bit deeper into Makoto’s navel, just to tease, before moving his fingers further down, to Makoto’s hips and lastly to the heavy erection between his thighs.

Makoto’s breath stuttered and he caught Haru’s hand with his own, almost as though he was afraid of letting Haru explore further.

“No?” Haru asked, giving Makoto’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“... No… it’s just…” Makoto murmured and let go of Haruka’s hand.

“Touch me, Makoto.” Haru encouraged, drawing his fingertips back up towards Makoto’s chest.

Makoto shivered faintly, his muscles flexing involuntarily as he seemingly braced himself for… something.

Haru gave him a moment to relax again, then went back to exploring Makoto’s chest.

From the ever so slight dip between his ribs above his pectoral muscles, to the contours of his breast, to his small nipples.

Haru at first pressed the pad of his thumb into the nub, taking note of Makoto’s reaction, before starting to rub tiny circles into the sensitive spot.

Makoto closed his eyes and hung his head, sighing as a tingling current ran from his chest, all the way down to his crotch.

He felt ashamed for his own arousal, and safe at the same time; safe in the knowledge that Haruka wanted this too, that Haruka encouraged him, that Haruka felt the same.

Gathering some courage, Makoto brought his hand down to Haru’s shaft again, wrapping his long fingers around it and giving a gentle stroke.

Haru hummed, moving his hand from Makoto’s nipple to his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

Haru liked that.

Makoto leaned on his elbow now, rather than his hand, allowing their chests to rub against each other, while he continued to stroke Haru’s length.

Haru’s eyes fell shut and he slowly, sensually rolled his hips, effectively moving his dick in Makoto’s grasp.

“Mmh… Makoto…” Haru sighed, his lips brushing against Makoto’s cheek while he nuzzled Haru’s neck.

“Haru…” Makoto whispered back, mirroring Haru’s slow rhythm as he ground his cock against Haru’s thigh.

“Makoto, you can… you… should…” Haru murmured, blinking into the dark, trying to find Makoto’s warm green eyes.

Makoto paused.

“What, Haru? What should I do?” he asked, pecking Haru’s lips when the young king didn't speak for a while.

“I… you can… enter… me…” Haruka whispered at last.

Makoto gaped.

“...” For a moment he stared at Haru, his cheeks reaching a new level of redness which he hadn’t thought possible before now.

“E-e-enter… y-you… Ha… Haru, that… that can’t be right…!” he stammered, but Haru had made the offer, and he refused to let Makoto decline _just_ because he was too shy to consider it.

“It’s possible,” he assured, averting his eyes from Makoto’s. He knew the brunette was staring at him intently, trying to piece together how in the world his suggestion could possibly work… 

“How… do you know…?” 

Now Haru was the one to blush.

“I… heard. From… the Crown Prince of Kyokko…”

Makoto raised an eyebrow.

“From Prince Kisumi?”

Haru huffed.

“Certainly not from Prince Hayato,” he hissed, pouting when Makoto started laughing.

Makoto wrapped his arms around Haru’s back and kissed him repeatedly.

“Don’t pout, Haru. Don’t be angry,” he pleaded between kisses. “You are so sweet,” he said and swallowed any protests Haru could have voiced in another kiss.

When they parted and Makoto leaned back, he knew that Haru was flustered, even if he was still pouting.

“...’m not sweet…” he argued.

Makoto only found him to be even sweeter when he did that, but wisely decided not to tell Haru about these feelings.

Instead, he sat back and put his hands on Haru’s thighs again, slowly wandering down towards his hips until he reached his buttocks.

“So, Haru,” he said, giving each buttcheek a good squeeze, “did Prince Kisumi tell you _how_ it is possible?”

Haru groaned.

“I’m divorcing you after this,” he whined, but Makoto only chuckled fondly.

“Tell me, Haruka,” he cooed.

“In the second drawer… of the vanity is a vial of oil. That should… help.”

* * *

With Haru lying on his stomach, a pillow and a towel stuffed under his pelvis, Makoto felt that he was going to combust. He saw just enough to know where Haru’s buttocks were, but he still needed to rely on touch to really find what he was looking for.

And that was the tight ring of muscle that he was going to breach… tonight.

The thought was both exciting and slightly unnerving, after all… wouldn’t it hurt Haru?

Makoto had gotten the vial of oil Haru had told him where to find, and poured a liberal amount of the glistening liquid over the cleft between Haru’s buttcheeks.

It was strangely mesmerizing to watch Haru’s entrance twitch, the oil catching the light in a way that seemed to just _draw_ Makoto’s attention in.

He didn’t get too long to admire the display before him though, as Haru reached back to tentatively touch himself, dragging a finger through the oil which pooled at the end of his tailbone.  
Slowly he rubbed the oil into his taint, trailing his fingertip further back again, so it rested right above his hole.

And then slowly, dipped his finger inside.

Makoto watched, holding his breath as Haru hesitantly fingered himself. For now only using one finger, sliding it deeper into himself, until his knuckles pressed into him, and he could go no further; then carefully withdrawing it.

Once his finger was free again, Haru rubbed his index finger and thumb together, as though he wanted to feel the residual texture of his own insides.

Makoto felt like he was intruding upon a private moment, watching Haru explore himself in a way he probably hadn’t before.

Still, as Haru tried to slide two fingers into himself now, he couldn’t help but keep watching intently.

Haru’s slender fingers didn’t seem to be that much of a challenge, even for a virgin such as Haru himself, but even just the addition of a second finger felt… noticeably different, Haru realized.

He withdrew his middle and index fingers and twisted his body a little so he could look back at Makoto.

Makoto bit his lip.

He truly didn’t know what to say, but he felt like he needed to let Haru know that he still wanted this, that Haru was doing good, that he enjoyed watching… but the words wouldn’t come to his mind, so instead he grabbed the vial again, and poured some oil over his own hand.

Haru’s eyes widened, and his breath hitched with anticipation, but he said nothing against what Makoto was planning, and laid back down.

Now it was on Makoto to prove himself worthy of the trust Haru put in him; to please and explore him, without causing pain.

He mimicked the way Haruka had touched himself, tracing a line from his tailbone, down to his perineum, before rubbing his fingertip into his entrance.

“Haru…” he muttered, not sure if he could just push in, or if he should wait or…  
“Just do it,” Haru breathed, and Makoto obeyed.

After the first resistance was broken, his finger slid easily all the way inside, much to his surprise.

Haru let out a gasp.

“Did I hurt you?” Makoto asked immediately.

Haru shook his head and reached behind himself to grab Makoto’s wrist.

“Keep going… add another,” he whispered, gently tugging on Makoto’s wrist to direct him.

Makoto withdrew his index finger from Haru, only to re-enter him with his middle finger added to the first digit.

With Haru’s inner walls stretched a bit wider around his fingers, Makoto actually felt how smooth they were. Only the tight rings of muscle brought any difference in texture and tightness, and Makoto shuddered to imagine not his fingers but his own… oh goodness.

Haru gave Makoto’s wrist a squeeze, reminding him to move his fingers within him, to stretch him.

Makoto panted softly as he started to slide his fingers in and out of Haru. At first the motion was a bit difficult and Haru tensed up every now and then, but slowly the motion became more fluid, so that Makoto dared to scissor his fingers and curl them a little within Haru.

In a way it was almost scary to feel the tip of Haru’s tailbone against his fingers, but somehow, it was also really thrilling.

Makoto twisted his fingers a bit, curling them towards Haru’s front when… Haru cried out, clenching on Makoto’s fingers.

“H-Haru…?!” Makoto stammered, ready to withdraw his fingers and run away forever, but Haru’s grasp on his wrist tightened.

“There… again…” he gasped.

“Again?” Makoto repeated, still a little dumbstruck.

“Please…”

Makoto curled his fingers again, only now becoming more aware of the little knot he was pressing his fingertips into.

Haruka let out a deep moan this time, rolling his hips encouragingly.

Makoto withdrew his fingers and then slid them all the way back inside, aiming for that spot again.

The drawn out moan he got in response made the hairs on his back stand up.

He used his free hand to pour more oil on his fingers, withdrawing them and adding his ring finger now.

Haru squirmed a little at first, but when Makoto pressed his fingers into that spot again he practically melted.

“Haru…” Makoto whispered hoarsely. He leaned over Haru, brushing his lips over Haru’s shoulder blade, pecking at him.

Haru let go of Makoto’s wrist, digging his fingers into the sheet now, as Makoto began to rut against him.

It was so close to sex, but not quite; Makoto’s hand was lodged between their bodies, his fingers pushing into him in the same rhythm as Makoto’s slow grinding, while his throbbing length slid against Haru’s thigh.

“Haruka... “ Makoto breathed, right next to Haru’s ear now, grazing his teeth over the shell and suckling on his earlobe.

Haru groaned, rolling his hips needily.

“Mako...to…” he moaned, his breath catching in his throat as Makoto’s fingers brushed inside him, right there, again.

“Haru, can I?”

“Please!”

That was all Haruka needed to say for Makoto to withdraw his fingers, wasting no time to rub the residual lubricant onto his cock.

He rested it between Haru’s buttocks and merely slid it back and forth a few times, shuddering at the feeling of warm, slick skin rubbing against him, but soon he caved to his desires.  
He sat back and lined himself up with Haru’s entrance. After a moment Haru himself reached back to guide Makoto.

He gave a push, barely entering at all, then another, sliding in deeper this time.

Haru held back a whimper.

“Haru?” Makoto panted, hoping to stop himself before they went too far for him to listen anymore.

He felt himself aching for relief, and with how tight Haru was… he hoped he would find it within himself to stop if Haru needed him to.

“Slowly, Makoto,” Haru muttered.

“Slowly… yes…” Makoto agreed and carefully pushed again. Haru bore down, willing himself to accept Makoto’s girth, willing himself to open up… 

Makoto paused.

“Hah… Haruka… you need to breathe…” he reminded, stroking Haru’s hip, hoping to distract him from the discomfort.

Haru suddenly let out the breath he’d been holding, inhaled deeply and when he exhaled again, Makoto slid in another few centimeters.

Makoto bit his lip and held still for a moment, gathering himself again, forcing his mind to push past the internal monologue of how damn _tight_ Haru feels, how he’s _so hot_, how the slick but not slippery feeling of the oil is _just right, how he wants to thrust in at last, set a rhythm, keep going until he’s sated… _

He shuddered, letting out a groan and pushed in just a bit deeper.

Haru cried out, tearing at the bedsheet with both hands as he felt so many things at the same time. There was a burning pain, the fear that he might have torn after all, paired with the heavy pressure _within_ him, the knowledge that this is _Makoto’s cock inside him_, that Makoto is _having sex with him…_ the need to keep going, to experience this _now_, even if it hurts… the hope that it’ll feel better once he hits _that spot_ again.

“Makoto…!” he breathed, “Makoto please… more…!”

Makoto gave a careful thrust. Then another, staggering to stop himself from going too far, but Haru pushed back against him, arching his back as far as he could.

“Again…!” he whined, and Makoto thrust again.

Haruka almost screamed.

His body forgot the meaning of pain, when the burning discomfort turned into pleasure, when even the ache in his back faded away, leaving nothing but ever mounting lust in its wake.

Makoto held onto Haru’s hips, before leaning over him again, running his hands along his back to hold him down by the shoulders.

Haru turned his head to the side, mutely pleading for Makoto to kiss him, and Makoto did. He drew his hands from Haru’s shoulders to his chest, over his stomach to his hips again, pulling him up and back against himself.

Haru broke the kiss to sob, tears welling in his eyes.

Makoto mouthed at Haru’s nape, groping his hips, his thighs, his cock as he kept pumping into him, chasing pleasure.

He barely had time to react before he suddenly felt the need to draw Haru in even closer, hold him tighter, thrust in deeper, again and again, and he let out a guttural moan, shuddering as he rode out his orgasm.

Haru gasped, eyes wide with shock as he felt Makoto’s release within him.

He had…  
… there was… 

Makoto…!

He sobbed, his own climax finally washing over him as Makoto desperately clung to him in his afterglow.

* * *

Neither of the two was entirely sure how much time had passed since their… coupling, but neither really cared.

Haru laid back in Makoto’s arms, not in any particular mood to move or speak or do much of anything.  
He was happy where he was, watching the shadows grow paler, the thick darkness fading into rosy twilight as the sun rose.

“Haru,” Makoto whispered by his ear.

Haru hummed to let him know he’d heard him.

“The water is getting cold,” Makoto pointed out, shifting a little.

Haru was widely uninterested.

“Haru, let’s go back to bed,” Makoto almost whined.

He had taken Haru to the bathroom upon his insistence. Water was heated, the tub filled and Haru placed inside.

Somehow Makoto had eventually found himself in the tub with Haru, and somehow the sun was rising already.

“We need to sleep at least a little,” Makoto complained, deciding to take matters into his own, weirdly pale, wrinkly hands.  
Yeah, this had been more than enough bathing for one night.

Haru didn’t really struggle or protest when Makoto lifted him up, out of the water.

Makoto sat Haru on the edge of the tub and grabbed a towel to wrap Haru in, then wrapped himself in another towel and picked up the royal towel-burrito to take him back to bed.

Truly, Haruka had dozed off before Makoto had even put him down, and it was no surprise that Makoto passed out with his face nuzzled into the crook of Haru’s neck, mere moments later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, y'all have no idea how freaking hard it was to write this! (Actually, if you've seen me whine on the Discord server, you might know XD)
> 
> The thing is, when I saw that Nikk was "comfortable receiving NSFW content, but this is entirely optional. (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)" my mind basically said: "So, you gotta write a smut scene," and I was like... "Do I really- you know what, you're right, I have to! I'm OBLIGATED to write one!"
> 
> The catch is, that I haven't felt comfortable writing explicit smut for... months. So... I just kinda forced myself... and failed.
> 
> In the end I whined to Roo-nee, my SAVIOR, who helped me with the smut-writing.
> 
> I'll share the details for your amusement.  
So, after struggling for a while to get a feel for it, and to really get into it... and failing, I kinda realized that it's just really hard to literally write the... sexual words - you know what I mean - and to not cringe at them.  
So... kinda randomly I decided... to just take off my glasses while writing. That way I didn't have to see the shit I was writing.
> 
> And you know what?  
IT WORKED.
> 
> Roo-nee read my garbage writing and corrected my spelling mistakes - which I couldn't see without my glasses - and thus made it possible for you to read this thing in the first place.  
Go shower her with love, she did awesome!
> 
> But yeah, that's the tale of how I wrote this thing, that you didn't ask for, but I shared anyways. You're welcome~

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story! If you did, I'd be overjoyed to receive Kudos or a comment from you!


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